


Really Sell It

by RoseHarperMaxwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Pining Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26558050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHarperMaxwell/pseuds/RoseHarperMaxwell
Summary: Draco's having a rough eighth year, and Hermione's going to make it better for him."Well, it’s clear what needs to happen.” She gripped his chin, tilting his head to make sure she hadn’t missed any injuries, before looking straight into his eyes. “You’re my boyfriend now.”*Featuring fake dating, exhibitionism, and sex-positive Hermione Granger. Submission for Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut Fest.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 123
Kudos: 1170
Collections: Best of DMHG, Draco Fic's for Valerie, Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut, Top Tier Harry Potter Fiction, dramione i've read





	Really Sell It

**Author's Note:**

> My assignments:  
> Trope: Fake Dating  
> Kink: Exhibitionism  
> Ice Cream: Rocky Road
> 
> Thanks for the prompt and organizing, [ FaeOrabel, ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel) [ KoraKwidditch, ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch) and [ WordsmithMusings! ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/pseuds/WordsmithMusings)
> 
> Also, thank you so much [ LadyKenz347 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347) for the gorgeous art at the end of the piece! Follow her work on [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/ladykenz347) and [ Facebook. ](https://www.facebook.com/LadyScribbles/)

It started out to be a pretty typical autumn eighth-year day for Draco. He'd checked all the usual boxes: wake up, mind his own business, do the work that was expected of him.

As usual, he was failing at each day's final, most difficult objective—avoid getting hexed.

After dinner, Draco retreated to the fourth floor, where he tried to keep to himself. This was unsuccessful, as he found himself cornered, subject to a typical attack from typical grudge-holding Gryffindors, biting his fucking tongue and _not_ pulling his wand. A hellish Hogwarts was better than Azkaban on any day. 

Some students had a harder time letting bygones be bygones. And admittedly, Draco _had_ been a bastard. Some of his past actions had been defensible; others, less so. But no one cared why he'd done any of it. Perception was everything. They felt he had it coming, and in retrospect, he couldn't disagree. Somewhere between being branded with dark magic and watching his classmate tortured in his home, he had found himself seriously reevaluating his life choices.

Granger herself strolled into the secluded classroom, as though she’d been summoned by some Savior status she’d inherited in Potter’s absence. No one noticed her until his attackers were silently disarmed and frozen with an immobilization spell. She placed her wand deliberately on a table next to the handful she had collected, launching into a very on-brand lecture about the cowardice of an outnumbered, uneven attack. 

Grateful though he was for a reprieve, Draco wondered why she was wasting her breath. But when her _Petrificus_ was momentarily swapped out for an _Incarcerous,_ without so much as a pause in scolding or a finger on her wand, he thought the youngest one might piss himself. 

Truth be told, Draco himself was equal parts intimidated and impressed. The sheer display of powerful magic and smooth continuity of her speech had quite an effect. 

Granger wrapped up her disconcertingly-seductive litany by reminding them that she’d given up the last year of her education while waging a war for a unified, safer wizarding world. A war she had _won._ So they ought not undermine her efforts, because she rather felt they should prefer to have her as an ally than an enemy. 

She picked up her own wand, letting the others on the table scatter and roll as she released her spells, and finished it off with a disturbingly cheerful, "So let's be our best selves this year, shall we?" 

Rumors abounded that Granger impersonated Bella to get into Gringotts, and Draco suspected they were true. It was a Lestrange vault they’d burgled, after all. Perhaps his aunt was so fucked up that imbibing Bella-infused Polyjuice left a lingering impression.

As soon as they were alone, Granger turned her wand on him, fussing at him to sit on the edge of a table so she could conduct an examination. Her magic was a pleasant tingle as she healed his wounds neatly and efficiently. 

"Well, it’s clear what needs to happen.” She gripped his chin, tilting his head to make sure she hadn’t missed any injuries, before looking straight into his eyes. “You’re my boyfriend now.”

Draco stared at her stupidly. A stiff but gracious acceptance of his apology was better than he’d deserved, and spending the summer restoring the library side-by-side had seemed to convince her of his sincerity. So, civility was predictable. Gryffindor bravado was unsurprising.

But this—this was unexpected.

She patted his speechless face and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I've no plans to sully the bloodline. Be honest with me. How often is this happening?”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Clearly," she said dryly, removing a bloodstain from his sleeve. "Is it just you, or are other Slytherins getting it, too?”

Draco let his head fall back with a resigned sigh. Rolling his neck relieved some tension and bought time to formulate a response. “Things are being said. But I don’t think they’ve been as...forceful with anyone else.”

Satisfied enough with her healing, she sat on a desktop across from him, legs swinging. “Hmmm. Well, you saw what just happened. There’s no denying that the threat of influence I _could_ have makes them afraid to cross me. I can’t be around all the time, but if they think we’re dating, this should stop.”

Draco crossed his arms. “I don’t need you to protect me, Granger. I just want to keep my head down and get through this year.”

“It looks a _little_ like you could use the protection.” She teased, but her smile was kind. “Look, I meant what I said. We need to move forward, not turn the tables. What better symbol of unity than you and I? You’re intelligent enough to be a better study partner than I’ve likely had in the past, and we have the same schedule." 

Her legs stopped swinging, and crossed primly at the ankle. "Plus, Ginny will leave off trying to fix me up with everything that moves. You’d be doing me a favor, really.” 

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing. 

Ever-thorough, she went in for the kill: “And I’d say you owe me a favor.”

Merlin, that was understating it. Of course he owed her. For everything he’d ever said in school. For her part in helping Potter end the war. For what she’d gone through in his fucking house. For testifying at his fucking trial. 

This would hardly even the score, but it made it that much harder to say no.

“You don’t even like me, Granger. Why on earth would anyone believe we’re together?”

Her brow furrowed in consideration. “It does have to be believable.” She hopped off the table and invaded his space again, stepping between his legs. “We might need to practice.” 

“Practice?” His voice was higher than normal. He hated it.

One self-assured palm suddenly caressed his thigh, while the other slid slowly up his chest, curling around his neck and into his hair. Draco felt his pulse pick up immediately, and he froze in place. Granger was _touching_ him in a very familiar way. 

“Yes, you’re going to have to relax,” she said. “If you’re this uncomfortable around me, people will hardly believe we're shagging.”

Merlin. Nothing prim about _that._

“Well, we don’t have to be obscene about it,” he said, swallowing audibly.

She was close enough that he felt her warm breath as she huffed a soft laugh. It smelled of peppermint tea, and reminded him of home. Well, home _before._

“We’re not first years holding hands. We’re both adults, even by Muggle standards. We’re going to have to sell it, Draco.” Fingers massaged the nape of his neck, and his head lolled again, this time involuntarily. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him so pleasantly, and it was hard to resist the urge to lean into that kindness. 

“Are you okay with that?”

For the first time in the whole encounter, a flicker of insecurity crossed her face. She was a confident, formidable witch, and rightfully so. But Draco knew the most plainly cruel of his many fuck-ups was the way he'd bullied her. He couldn't justify forgiving himself for it, and yet she was clearly attempting to put the past behind them.

Mind and body both exhausted, he shrugged a shoulder in surrender. “Whatever you say, Granger.” 

He didn't buy that he was doing her a favor, not even for a moment. But if she wanted a project for the year, he'd be her subject. 

* * *

Their “relationship” worked, just like Hermione—he had to call her that, at least sometimes—had known it would. 

There were some raised eyebrows (particularly from McGonagall), and Longbottom and Weaselette had given him guarded looks before “borrowing” Granger, huddling in conversations that were clearly intense, despite being silenced.

But there were no confrontations. Most students admired her or were intimidated by her. She’d come back to Hogwarts just as intelligent as before, but with that bit of chilly ruthlessness that pleased his Slytherin nature. 

And the attacks dropped off, just as she'd predicted. 

Granger, to put it simply, took no shit. But she was a force for the greater good. Draco could see it in attempts she made to break down the barriers that always existed between houses. Positive interaction was strongly encouraged, as she was convinced that going through the motions would ensure lasting change. 

She organized game nights—not just in the common rooms, but in the Great Hall, with a mix of Muggle and wizarding favorites. She planned a bonfire and assigned each house a task, so none could escape participation. On Halloween, she matched students in pairs, no two from the same house, and challenged them to coordinate costumes together.

Draco dragged his feet on dressing up until she told him he could just wear his Quidditch uniform. She dressed as a Snitch.

For all the time she put into her studies and peacekeeping efforts, Draco would have expected precious little left over for her to pretend to be his girlfriend.

He underestimated her, as usual.

Granger made sure they spent as much time as possible together, and she was affectionate. _Very_ affectionate. They sat together in classes, and not with any sort of well-spaced, respectable distance. She sat close, tickling his thigh with gentle scratching patterns of her fingernails. 

They walked the corridors hand in hand, Granger dragging him along to whatever she had listed next in her planner. She sat next to him at meals, and cuddled next to him on the sofa in the common room.

The first time she kissed him openly, on the cheek, he froze as though she’d cast a _Petrificus._ Shocking him seemed to please her, as one corner of her mouth turned up cheekily each time she caught him off guard. His flushed skin couldn’t have been faked if he’d tried, but at least it played along with their act.

Once she seemed to sense he wouldn’t flinch in surprise, her kisses remained demure, but shifted from cheek to square on the mouth. Every time, her eyes sparkled with mischief, as though she greatly enjoyed testing his commitment.

Although no one openly challenged her about their relationship, it was dubiously received by all at first. Why would _she_ want to be with _him?_ But as the weeks and months passed, most students started to shrug and accept that if they weren’t actually together, they were certainly putting a lot of effort into pretending. 

His friends, however, knew a plot the moment they saw one.

“So she’s just going to be eating with us now?” Pansy had asked, the first time it happened. Granger had just kissed his cheek and promised to return after a chat with Ginny. “Just—every meal. Granger’s going to be here.”

Blaise grinned across the table. “Until she gets tired of this charade, maybe.” 

Draco ignored him. “She can eat wherever she likes. So can you, for that matter.”

“There is _no way_ you are actually in a relationship with Hermione Granger,” Theo said. “We all know that. She got tired of watching you get your arse kicked, didn’t she? Convenient way to catch the witch you’ve always been obsessed with.”

It was a matter of pride now, so he deflected somewhat truthfully. “We got to know each other over the summer, and we put the past behind us.” 

Blaise and Theo shared a glance. “Then you wouldn’t mind if we test out one of Theo’s new spells? A variation on _Transpicio._ We could take a peek through her door after you two go to bed one night, just to verify.” 

Confessing would probably have been smarter. They’d likely have kept his secret, but now they were calling his bluff. His friends were the worst.

“Don’t go spying on her, you pervy bastards. We’re not sharing a room.” Draco tried to think of a way to save face. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re taking that slow.” 

“Doesn’t look like she’s taking anything _else_ slow,” said Pansy. “She practically sat in your lap in Ancient Runes.”

Hermione returned, blessedly rescuing him once again from a situation he didn’t want to be in. “Ready, Draco?”

* * *

Being Granger’s fake boyfriend was nice. It was _really_ nice. Draco started off just accepting the affection she bestowed upon him, making himself pliable to suit her plan. But he found it all too easy to play along, and soon, she wasn’t the only one initiating contact. 

He played with her hair, winding wild chestnut curls around his fingers. Why had he ever criticized it? It was so _soft,_ and it smelled like his favorite things: apples and vanilla. There was so much of it, the scent wafted when she turned her head. He breathed deeply every time. 

He leaned into the way she stroked her fingers through his own hair, massaging his scalp. Merlin, he loved that. Her fingertips provided the perfect pressure, and he could fall asleep to the soothing touch.

She liked to read while they walked, and he found himself pulling her close with a protective palm on her hip, neatly avoiding the path of other students. She didn’t even look up—just trusted that he wouldn’t let her run into anything. 

For the sake of keeping up appearances, they spent time alone together beside the lake, out in the open where they could be seen. Draco would conjure a blanket while Hermione cast silencing and cushioning charms, and she leaned into him as they filled time talking about the hard things they didn’t want to burden anyone else with.

Draco slowly realized the only time he felt awkward was when they, on rare occasion, were completely alone together, with no other eyes around. In those moments there was no excuse for close contact, and the sudden absence of it reminded him sharply that while they might actually be friends now, none of the rest was real. 

* * *

Though Theo and Blaise still didn’t believe she was actually his girlfriend, they got used to Granger. Her presence was useful for studying, and they appreciated her witty sense of humor.

She and Pansy still had a lingering grudge. Hermione was coolly pleasant to her, but Draco knew she’d not forgotten Pansy offering up Potter without apology. Draco sensed a bit of proprietary protectiveness from Pansy, though they’d never _really_ been together. But Granger gave as good as she got. Sometimes he even found it amusing—until one evening when things went too far before he even realized what had happened. 

Pansy sat across from them in the common room, a devious look on her face. Draco recognized that look. She was in the mood to stir things up. “Draco, remember the time we rented a room while we were in Hogsmeade?”

“Hmm.” Draco was noncommittal. It wasn’t something he wanted to reminisce about, nor did he want to get involved in the tension she was trying to stoke. Granger, tucked neatly into his side, stiffened. 

“I still can’t believe no one heard us.” Pansy spoke to Draco, but stared right at Granger. “You made me scream twice that night, if I recall.”

Hermione stared right back for a long beat. Then she turned into Draco, fingers tracing a territorial claim on his collarbone. “Only twice?” She spoke quietly in his ear, making him shiver. “Must have been an off night for you.”

Even Draco laughed at Pansy's scowl. What was she trying to start?

Whatever it was, Granger seemed to take it as a personal challenge. "Speaking of, I think I’m ready to call it a night." 

Instead of giving him the usual chaste kiss goodnight, she pulled Draco to his feet, too. She wrapped her fingers around his tie and tugged just enough to capture his lips—slightly parted in shock—in a filthy kiss. Right in the middle of the room. 

They certainly hadn’t kissed like _that_ before. 

She sucked softly at his upper lip, and when she released just enough to tease the underside of it with a lick of her tongue, Draco realized he’d made an embarrassingly involuntary hum of pleasure. _More of this,_ he thought. That desire was so insistent, it drowned out everything else. He almost forgot where they were until she pulled back, threading her fingers with his. “Come say goodnight?”

The last thing he saw as she led him from the common room was Theo’s smug face, winking at him. 

* * *

The door closed behind them, and Hermione gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. Reality jolted him as she shifted back into friendship mode. She went straight for the small kitchenette every eighth year student had, scooping a bowl of ice cream. "That was fun," she said. "Pansy's insufferable sometimes. Do you want some?" 

He waved off the ice cream, but cast a silencing charm and followed her as she sat on her bed. "Actually, I need to talk to you. You know my friends have never really believed there’s anything going on between us.” 

She nodded, taking a bite of ice cream and sucking the spoon clean. Her tongue—which had just been _in his mouth_ —licked a trace of ice cream off of her lower lip. 

Draco rubbed his palm across his forehead, willing his mind to focus so he could explain. Merlin, what an invasion of her privacy. “Well. Uh, they’ve joked about using a revealing charm on your door if we ever shared a room. So they could watch and see that we're...you know. Just eating ice cream." 

Hermione swallowed another mouthful slowly. "Everyone can see us right now?"

He shook his head. "No, just those tossers. There's an incantation, and—I don’t know. Theo's fucking brilliant at charms. I'm sorry, Granger.” He leaned against the dresser next to her bed. "I never said anything because I didn’t expect to actually be invited into your room."

Hermione set the bowl carefully on the dresser next to her. She shifted to rise up on her knees, putting her eye level with Draco. 

“I’ve never heard of a charm that could do that inside Hogwarts.” She was quiet, but her mood had definitely shifted. 

“Theo’s an evil genius.”

“He never takes first marks in charms, or anything else.” Were her pupils dilated? She wasn’t overreacting, but something unsettled him about her intense look.

“He’s fucking lazy, Granger. And it doesn’t suit his purpose for anyone to suspect what kind of things he’s capable of.” Draco sighed. He should have known better than to think his friends would just leave this alone. “This has probably gotten out of hand. I'll just come clean, at least to them.”

Hermione hadn’t taken her eyes off of him, but now she side-eyed the door. "So...those three can see us.” Her breathing was rapid, sweet and chocolatey. “And you think they're probably watching? Right now?" 

"Er. Yes, probably.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you—why are you looking at me like that? Are you alright? I swear I’d have told you earlier if I thought it was going to be an issue. You just caught me off guard, bringing me in here tonight."

Draco went very still as Hermione dropped his gaze, and started carefully unknotting his tie. His pulse picked up as he realized the idea of being watched might be _doing_ something for her. 

"Look, Draco. I'd be lying if I said all the handsy behavior between us didn't have me a bit bothered. I masturbate regularly, of course, but it's been awhile since I’ve had a partnered orgasm." 

The swotty way she described consistently pleasuring herself made his breath catch. She pulled the tie from his collar and paused, fingertips on his top button. "What I’m saying is, I don't have a problem with this if you don't."

Draco just gaped at her for a moment. She began to pull her hands away, and he startled into action, clasping them and pressing them back into his chest. "No. No problem." 

She grinned, unfastening his buttons. 

Oh, this was really happening. His cock ached, but his conscience twinged. "Are you sure, though—it doesn't bother you that they're probably watching right outside the door?" 

Her breath hitched and her eyes got even darker. She _was_ fucking getting off on this. 

She shrugged, tugging his shirt from his trousers. "Why should it? The human body is perfectly natural. I find you attractive, and I think you find me attractive. We have chemistry. They can enjoy the show. Besides, then we still have the upper hand and no one knows about our arrangement."

Draco hesitated at that. He felt a little flutter in his stomach at the idea of fooling around with her just to keep up appearances. "Hermione," he said, watching her fingers trail down her own buttons before she slipped her shirt off of her shoulders. 

There was an argument to be made here, but he was swiftly losing track of it. 

"Relax, Draco. Sex is a very healthy, normal activity for two consenting adults." She unhooked her bra, tossing it behind her as well. Merlin, her tits were glorious. Creamy skin, mouthwatering rosy nipples and a beautiful bounce as she moved. "If we start doing anything you're not comfortable with, just say…" She looked around for inspiration. "Rocky Road." 

She gave him a mischievous smile, dipping two fingers into the bowl of melting ice cream. She dragged them across her collarbone, lightly up her neck, before trailing down a breast to swirl around one nipple, and then the other.

This was all jaw-dropping behavior, to say the least. Which made it easier for that fucking witch to push her ice-cream covered fingers into his mouth, stroking his tongue as he closed his lips around her on instinct. "I think you should clean me up, Draco."

It was by far the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and he didn’t need to be asked twice. She sighed as he licked her fingers clean. Then she clutched at the plackets of his shirt while he mouthed at her neck, sucking harder than necessary. He felt dizzy with the apple-vanilla scent of her hair, the sound of soft pleasured moans, and the taste of ice cream and Hermione fucking Granger on his lips. An instant bruise developed to replace the ice cream, but Draco felt he could hardly be blamed for his efforts when she made sounds like that. 

Hermione’s back arched as he gripped her waist, obediently following the path she’d made for him. He flicked his tongue over her nipples before taking each one into his mouth in turn. “Teeth, Draco,” she panted, sliding her fingers into his hair and directing him from one breast to the other. “I like—ah, yes, like that. I like a little teeth.” 

She was bossy and bold, and it shot straight to his cock. Draco knew what to do, but the way she spelled out exactly what she wanted? It was incredibly hot. He obliged her, nipping and scraping at her tender skin, appreciating her throaty moan as he soothed each bite with his tongue. “Just like that, yes. Oh, fuck. You have no idea how wet that makes me.”

Draco choked back a groan, hoping desperately he would get to find out. He kissed her mouth again, confidently this time, stroking her tongue with his and burying his hands in her hair as the intensity increased. The ice cream had been sweet and cold, but kissing her like this after such a build-up of constant, virtuous affection set his whole body on fire.

He slipped a hand under the line of her skirt, but she swatted it away, breaking the kiss to climb off the bed. She turned him around, unclasped his belt, and pushed his trousers down. He inhaled sharply as she mouthed at his neck, finding a spot that made his eyes close and his knees weak. “Can I suck your cock, Draco?”

He nodded hastily, spotting the bowl on the dresser. He reached for the ice cream, thinking he might trail some down his cock. Granger wasn’t the only one who could be cheeky. But before he could do it, she pushed the bowl away.

"No. Not if you want to fuck me, anyway. Ice cream and vaginas don't get along." She tilted her head, considering. "Unless you want to save that for another time."

The phrase _another time_ bounced around Draco's brain. Whatever was happening might happen _more than once._

"It's your show, Granger."

Her eyes slid to the door again, and her mouth turned up in a gorgeous grin. “What do you think they’re doing right now?” She dropped to her knees, pulling down his pants and humming appreciatively. She stroked the tip of a finger through beaded fluid, dragging it slowly down his length.

“Gah—fuck, I don’t know, Granger. Pansy’s probably got her knickers in a twist and the other two are probably wanking each other off. Fuck.” He leaned back against the bed. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Hermione grasped the base of his cock, nuzzling and pressing kisses to it before licking firmly up the underside. Every touch felt so incredible, he was afraid he’d embarrass himself, and he was well aware he had an audience. 

“Would you like me to stop?”

“Fuck no.” If someone had asked Draco the _least_ likely thing to happen during his eighth year, it might have been this very scenario. He seemed to be experiencing an alternate reality—a much more pleasant one than he'd ever expected.

“Mmm.” She slipped just the head of his cock into her mouth, sucking gently before tracing the ridge with her tongue. “You have a really nice cock, you know. I always wondered if you were overcompensating for something, but I guess you were just a tosser.”

Draco’s surprised laugh turned into a gasp as she sucked half of him into her mouth. “Thanks, Granger.”

A tiny smug feeling tickled Draco, something he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He doubted anyone had envied any Malfoy for at least a year or so now. But in this moment, he couldn’t help but be pleased that the people he would’ve been most tempted to tell were watching it happen. The thought was in the back of his mind even as Granger stared straight up at him, bobbing her head farther down his length than he’d have thought possible, settling in enthusiastically to her task. She was a vision. “Merlin, Granger, this is like a fucking wet dream. I’m not going to be able to—”

She pulled off of him, stroking languidly with a soft hand. “I’m open to some directorial collaboration. Where do you want to come?” Her thumb slid across the slit again and it felt so unbearably good, he reached back for a fistful of her duvet. “My face, right? It’s such a cliché, but I suppose that’s the showstopper.”

Draco gaped at her. “That’s—I mean, you’re probably right. But Merlin, Granger, I don’t want to come on your face. Unless you want that?” Not much would surprise him at the moment. But she shrugged one shoulder indifferently. “Okay, then. Ah”—she stroked him more firmly—”maybe on your tits?”

“Tell me when.” She took him back into her mouth, and he focused on the delightful suction as she swallowed around him skillfully. He idly wondered just how practiced Granger was, but pushed that distracting thought away when he started to imagine how many partners she’d had. The number was immaterial to him, but he absolutely didn’t want to think of red-haired exes—least of all _now_ , when he should be present in the moment. It might never happen again, and the sight of Granger on her knees, gorgeous tits jiggling beautifully as she coaxed him to completion, was something to be memorized. 

“Okay,” he said, and she used her hands to take him over the edge, watching his face as she made sure he was at the right angle when he lost control. He barely remembered to keep his eyes open, and he would’ve kicked himself if he had missed it. Granger’s lips were a swollen smile, her hair was an impressive cloud of tangled curls, and she looked utterly debauched with his come dripping down her breasts. 

“Good?” she asked.

Merlin fuck. “Yeah, Granger. Fantastic.”

“Good.” She stood, nudging him out of her way. She climbed back up on the bed, stretching across it on her back, so anyone watching through the door had a side view. She tugged a pillow underneath her head. “How do you feel about the taste of come?” 

Draco hardly registered her question. Her legs were slightly spread, one knee bent, and she glistened with arousal. Granger’s confidence was incredibly attractive, and he wondered how long it would take for him to get hard again. “Uh, I don’t know. I can’t say I have much experience with it.”

“Are you opposed to the idea?” She dragged her fingers through the wonderful mess on her chest. When he shook his head, her hand slipped between her legs, come-covered fingers gliding through her folds. One finger tapped against her clit, and she sighed. “Come take care of me, Draco.” 

The orgasm had loosened his body and eased his tension. She was going to let him taste her—audience or not, there was no way he wouldn’t do his best to please her. He felt relaxed and blissed out, eager to make her feel just as good. He was grateful she had stretched across the bed instead of reclining normally, because the last thing he wanted was his friends to have _that_ view of his naked arse. He settled between her thighs and startled at the sudden tingle of a teeth-cleaning charm. 

“You had ice cream,” she said.

"So did you!"

"And I used the charm on myself before I put my mouth on your cock, just in case."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss against the inside of her knee. “Your wandless non-verbal magic is terrifying, you know.” He trailed a path up one smooth thigh, before switching to the other knee and repeating the pattern. “And unbelievably hot.”

“You Slytherins and your attraction to power.” She was panting, and he still hadn’t touched her. She’d been on her knees for him, but this was the first time he’d felt like he had any semblance of control across the whole evening. “Draco, you’re teasing.”

The sight and scent of her arousal slicked with his come was tantalizing, and he was dying to taste her, but he was also undeniably curious whether she would order or beg if he dragged things out. He’d never been with someone so sexually assertive. It was surprisingly enjoyable, but he’d felt slightly wrong-footed all night. His first experience in both exhibitionism and being directed about, not to mention getting to touch Granger in ways he’d only imagined—it was all overwhelming. 

He was close enough to kiss her now, but he just blew a breath across her flesh. “I am teasing a bit, yes.”

“Well, I’d like an orgasm tonight, if you wouldn’t mind getting around to licking my clit.” She wriggled slightly, seeking contact. “Please, Draco.”

He laughed. A little of both, of course. Imploringly bossy. 

He really didn’t want to wait any longer either, so he made the slightest contact: a kittenish flick directly to her clit. Her hips bucked, and she made such a pretty moan that he decided to stop tormenting her. 

The taste of come was fine, as it turned out. A little bitter, but not off-putting. He made thorough sweeps through her folds, dipping his tongue inside before returning to her clit, where he’d learned most of the magic happened. She was so responsive to every touch, which made him even more eager to please, and he kept her thighs spread open so he could take his time learning her reactions to every stimulus. His repertoire was well-received, and she babbled praise as he held her hips down with a firm grip, bringing her over the edge of her gasping, politely-requested orgasm. 

“Wow,” she breathed, limp and sated. He stretched out beside her, propped on one elbow, and she glanced over, taking in his renewed erection. “Do you want to…”

“Another time.” 

It didn’t bother him that they’d almost certainly been spied on. He just wasn’t sure he wanted an audience for the first time he did anything more with Granger. Not when he was feeling some confusion about what was real and what wasn’t. He gestured downward and said, “This has a mind of its own, but I’m actually pretty exhausted.”

She nodded, replacing the pillow at the top of the bed, and he was relieved when she folded back the covers. “I’d like the left side. I’m just going to the loo; I’ll be right back.” 

When she climbed into bed, she pressed her back against him, pulling an arm over herself. Being allowed to hold her close was _nearly_ the sweetest part of the whole night. His friends were probably gone, but she wanted him to stay, and he would take what he could get.

* * *

Theo and Blaise seemed more impressed by what he’d actually accomplished with Granger than convinced the relationship was real. Still, they were no longer _certain_ it wasn’t, so that was something. They had a brief discussion at breakfast while Granger visited the owlery.

“Surprised you let us see her like that, mate,” said Blaise, brows raised with an air of judgment. 

Theo nodded reproachfully. “If she didn’t know, that’s just not on.”

“Certainly didn’t stop you, did it?” Draco said. He’d weighed how best to handle this without spilling Granger’s kinks. “Look, I’ve never done _anything_ with _anyone_ without their informed consent. Leave it at that.”

Pansy shuddered. “Yes, let’s never speak of this again.” 

* * *

Draco wished he’d talked to Granger afterward, or at least before leaving in the morning, because they’d been in a bit of an awkward holding pattern in the week since. She hadn’t given him any indication of whether things had changed. He hardly felt it would be appropriate to ask his _fake_ girlfriend if they would continue sharing a bed and getting off together behind closed doors—transparent or otherwise. 

So they returned to a tentative normal. They were affectionate in public, Granger warning off his would-be attackers with her fingers tightly entwined with his. It was nice being looked out for, Draco realized. No one in a position of influence, with something to lose, had ever proudly claimed Draco and all but said, “If you fuck with him, you’re fucking with me.” At first, he'd been unsure what to do with that protective affection, but now he sank into it like the comfort of a warm bath.

With each day that passed without a discussion, it felt even more awkward to bring up. He didn’t want things to end, and not just because he was safer at school or because her very proximity improved his reputation and future job prospects. 

Her latest endeavor was, in fact, a Hogwarts Career Fair. She had informed “Minerva” that the students needed more expansive career counseling than a handful of pamphlets. Granger had spent night and day on the project, often still working in the common room after he’d gone to bed, which made it easier to avoid a conversation about whether he was allowed or expected in hers.

The sheer volume of booths and excitement from students on the morning of the Career Fair was impressive. It was clear why he'd seen less of her over the last week. She’d arranged for a wide variety of professions, including representatives that worked tangentially or primarily in the Muggle world, to spend this Saturday morning at Hogwarts. He noticed she made it a point to introduce some of his former tormentors to the many contacts she had in their fields of interest, subtly flexing her influence. 

Granger kissed his cheek and encouraged him to explore on his own, but not until she had taken a tour through all the tables with him, hand in hand. She was setting a foundation for him, undoing damage in such a way that he could have worked years and still not accomplished the same result on his own. 

The care she felt for him was probably a little bit genuine. They’d spent too much time together, laughing and studying and putting hands all over each other for her not to see him as a friend. But ultimately, she’d been putting on a pretense. He was so glad that this year was going well because of her that he wanted to take exactly what she was willing to give, without asking for more.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. That was the plan. 

But Draco was good at fucking up his plans, and it started to fall apart immediately following the Career Fair.

They were in the eighth year common room, and he was feeling _warm_ and _fuzzy_ inside. He was feeling _hopeful._ He’d actually let himself have conversations with a few representatives—the DMLE, some apothecarists, even some Muggle universities. The pink cheeks and grin Hermione shot at him when he browsed that table—a grin he realized he didn’t see her give anyone else—made him feel _fond._ Draco would’ve liked to believe he was just a superb actor, but he couldn’t discredit the effect she was having on his life. Ugh. He was feeling _thoughtful._

She tucked her legs under her, snuggling into his side on a plush sofa. He cradled her close, and her exhausted, satisfied sigh made him plant a kiss on her temple. “Well done, Granger.” 

Blaise was on the sofa opposite, the only other person around. Everyone else had taken advantage of a Hogsmeade afternoon granted post-fair. He eyed Hermione contemplatively. “What hand-picked profession are you going to immediately excel at post-graduation, Granger?”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m actually going to take some time to myself first.”

Draco felt as shocked as Blaise looked. How did he not know this? 

“What’s that mean?” Blaise asked. “You’re not going to work?”

Hermione spun a ring on her right hand. It was a nervous tell Draco had noticed, and he squeezed her shoulder.

“I will probably be doing some research, but no, I don’t plan to go right into a career.” She leveled a preemptively defensive gaze at Blaise, like she’d judged herself for what she was about to say, so she was certain he would judge her, too. 

“I obliviated my parents after sixth year for their safety. They’re in Australia, and they don’t remember me. The Ministry there tried unsuccessfully to reverse it.” Draco felt her take a few deep, calming breaths while Blaise stared at her. “I’ll be trying to figure out if it’s permanent. Or at least going there to see if they’re happy enough to leave it be.”

Blaise clicked his tongue. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Granger. I hope it works. It was...probably the right call.”

It had absolutely been the right call, and Draco had told her that when she’d confided in him by the lake. He knew with certainty that Death Eaters went to her house more than once after she disappeared with Potter. Her parents were alive because she protected them.

It occurred to him that no one really looked after Granger. She was always putting everyone else’s needs above her own, even her parents'. Draco wasn’t the most self-sacrificing individual, but he knew a little about doing anything necessary to protect family. It might have gotten him into trouble, but for his house, it was one of the most noble, admirable things to do. 

When Blaise asked, “What about you, Draco? Noticed you looking around. Going to University?” Draco ignored him. 

Not intentionally. He was just focused on the witch curled into his side, because he was about to push his luck. 

He shifted her slightly, tilting her head so she looked at him. “Hey.” He searched her eyes, then asked quietly. “Do you want help?”

She stared at him quizzically for a moment, before a corner of her mouth turned up. “Help?” 

“After graduation. I can come with you. Help you research. You can bounce ideas off of me. It could take healers or—I don’t even know what, really. But the costs could be extensive.” He tried not to be gauche. “I could assist with that too, if you need. I’d be glad to.”

She was grinning up at him like a fool. He knew he was supposed to let her go, but he really, really didn’t want to, so he just kept making his case. “It might be nice to have someone there who knows—”

She cut him off by swinging a leg across his lap, straddling him and kissing him soundly. She kept her mouth pressed to his, but left enough space that she could begin unbuttoning her crisp white shirt.

It took Draco a moment of getting lost in the feel of Hermione’s mouth, not to mention her firm arse in his lap, before he remembered Blaise. 

Not only was he still present, he’d stretched his arms across the back of his sofa and settled in. He smirked at Draco before eyeing Granger’s arse, dangerously short school-issue skirt riding high as she pressed her hips against Draco.

“Granger?” He smoothed his hands down her skirt, trying to shield her arse from view as she nuzzled his neck. “Blaise is making eye contact.”

Blaise chuckled, and one of his hands found its way into his lap. Not only was he staring, he _winked_ at Draco as he stroked himself through his trousers. Bastard.

“Granger.” He clutched at her, trying hard to resist answering her hips with thrusts of his own. “He’s still doing it, and now he’s touching himself. It’s distracting.”

She stilled, face buried in his neck. “Is this a Rocky Road situation?” 

It took a moment for him to understand. “Well, no. I suppose not.”

“Hmm,” she moaned, hips rolling. “Just close your eyes, then.”

Blaise burst into a delighted laugh and stood, stretching. “You’re more fun than I’d have expected, Granger." He pointed at Draco. "I’ll leave you to it, but you better lock this down _for real,_ mate, or I might try it on with her myself.”

Hermione twisted to look at him, shirt gaping, and Blaise eyed her appreciatively. “Fantastic tits, Granger.”

She blinked as he sauntered away. “Thank you.”

Then she turned her focus back to Draco, who slipped his hands inside her unbuttoned shirt, skimming palms up her waist and over her ribs. “There’s no one around,” he said.

She nodded, pressing her hands into his chest. “Do you want me to stop?”

Draco didn’t want any more uncertainty. Good or bad, he needed her to know. “No, I don’t. I don’t want any of it to stop.”

“The fake relationship, or fooling around?” She eyed him warily.

“It’s all felt pretty real to me. And it’s not just physical, even though that’s brilliant.” He let himself try to take something he wanted with both hands. “I want to keep this, Granger. _For real._ ” 

Hermione pressed closer, seating herself against him so that every slow rock of her hips against his dragged a sweet friction for them both. “Good,” she whispered into his neck. She mouthed and sucked, pulling his skin between her teeth. “You turned out to be a decent fake boyfriend, you know. You really sold me on it.” 

He laughed, breathless, as she slowed long enough to slip her hands between them, undoing his trousers with nimble fingers. “Okay?” she asked.

Draco nodded, staring up into her face, framed with a curtain of the softest, apple-vanilla curls. “Fuck. Yes. Anything. But anyone could—” 

She moaned. A throaty, keening pleasure, as she pulled her knickers to the side. She slid along him, pausing when the head of his cock dragged against her clit before repeating the torturous pattern. Slick, velvety torture. “Yes, they could,” she sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

“You sure, Granger?” He tugged the cups of her bra down, taking one of her nipples between his teeth. She panted, looking wrecked above him, and he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to see this side of her. “Right here, where someone could walk in and see you riding my cock?”

Merlin, the sounds she made. She reached between them, positioning him and sinking down onto his cock. Though her skirt offered some coverage, it would be immediately apparent to anyone entering the common room what they were doing—much to her obvious delight. Hands on the back of the sofa, she used the leverage to her advantage. Draco savored every delicious slide and slow drag as he mouthed at her breasts, fucking up into her and murmuring filthy warnings about how someone was sure to catch them.

When he knew he couldn’t take much more, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her clit. She broke apart, cunt clenching around him, and he was struck by the peerless pleasure of knowing Granger let _him_ make her feel this way. And when she breathlessly ordered, “I want you to come inside me, Draco,” well. It had been her show all along. He obliged her like everything else.

The slow, satisfied kiss she gave him was the sweetest yet. It was full of the promise of things he knew he didn’t deserve, but might yet have anyway, because of the benevolent (and brazen) nature of Hermione Granger.


End file.
